


Turn into a lens

by gloss



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Facials, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 17:31:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6204382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="https://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=188746#cmt188746">kinkmeme prompt</a>: Poe gives Finn his first blowjob. That's it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn into a lens

**Author's Note:**

> title from Husker Du, "Books About UFOs": I'm going to turn into a lens and focus all my attention/On finding a new planet and naming it right after her

They have to make the most of limited space and stolen shreds of time. This time they're on Finn's bunk between shift changes, pants off, shirts undone, and Poe can't remember being this desperate and raggedly needy since adolescence.

"Please, Poe, I --" Finn's got one leg around Poe's hip and he's rubbing himself, rough and desperate, against Poe's thigh. He keeps breaking off, his voice cracking. His eyes are wide and shining. "Can you --?" 

"Can I what?" Poe asks, which is a little mean but also funny.

Finn smacks his lips and thrusts up and it's not like Poe doesn't know what he's asking for.

"Want to," Poe tells him. "Really want to suck you off."

Finn groans and bangs his head against the wall. His fingers clutch and release in Poe's shirt. "Please."

"You've been thinking about it, huh?"

Finn nods rapidly.

"That," Poe says, struggling not to just grind himself blind against Finn, "is so cool."

He's squeezing his eyes shut; the tendons in his neck stand out. "A lot. Thinking about it a lot."

Poe stills against him. "You're going to have to tell me about that, you know. *All* about it."

Finn opens his eyes. "Now?"

Laughing, Poe kisses his chin, then down his throat, feeling Finn shudder against him. "No, we can skip ahead. It's just that I thought we wanted to wait."

(They were trying to wait for leave. Find a nice planet with warm sun and uncrowded beaches, just take their time, enjoy themselves.)

Finn shakes his head. "No. Nope. No. Can't."

"Man, you --" Another surge of need shoots through him, makes his eyes sting and dick throb. Poe rolls his forehead against Finn's shoulder and breathes in, open-mouthed, the scent of his sweat. "Yeah, I got you."

(It was a really nice plan. It was never going to work, but it was a nice idea. They were never going to be able to hold out. They've already done everything you can do in the way of makeouts, use of hands, and just plain *rubbing* against each other.)

Poe drags the coverlet down to the floor with him, bunches it under his knees, and then he has to take a second. His palms are resting on Finn's thighs, so lightly that goosebumps radiate out over Finn's skin. The muscles under his hands keep bunching and tensing; down on the floor, on either side of his knees, Finn's toes curl and flex. He's sitting up, leaning on his fists, looking down at Poe.

"Hey." Poe reaches up, brushing his fingertips over Finn's cheek, then his lower lip. Finn's mouth opens more and Poe dips his fingers in, hooks them over Finn's lip, and tugs. 

Finn laughs, and the relaxation runs through his body, loosens his posture, and his smile is just *too* big, too bright, for Poe to even think about looking away from. 

As he leans in, spreading Finn's legs, he keeps looking, watches Finn bite his lip and hunch forward, hands roving over Poe's shoulders and arms. It's like Poe is doing this *and* watching, doing and getting done.

Finn lifts his ass, lets Poe tug him forward right to the edge of the bed. His briefs are tented, straining. 

"Take it out for me?" Poe asks. His chest hurts; he's not *nervous*, but there's something about this, like it's momentous but also so, so small, delicate, easily ruined. He chafes his hands up and down the outside of Finn's thighs. 

"Yeah," Finn says, shaky on just one syllable. "Right, of course."

It's just that Poe loves how *big* Finn's hands are, how smart they are, how they touch and move and *work*. And he loves Finn's dick, too, so this is a two-fer, long fingers wrapping around thick girth, thumb cocked over the head, bright shine of pre-come in the slit.

Poe's mouth really is filling with spit, just like that, unbidden. 

Finn *yelps*, high and shocked, when Poe takes the head between his lips. He grabs Poe's hair, then shudders and lets him go, shaking his head, only to grab Poe's shoulders.

The taste of him, the need that's pulling and pushing at Poe, the sparkle of sweat that's breaking out from each pore all over Poe's skin: It's almost too much, or it is too much, has been for a long time, and there's nothing else to do but go with it. Poe tightens his lips under the ridge of Finn's cockhead, then pushes his mouth all the way down, firm and sure, until his nose hits hair and his chin nudges balls.

Finn keens a little, really loud, then recalls himself and bites his lip again. His hands are frantic, then languorous, then hectic again, in Poe's hair, down his neck, back up. His nails scrape skin, drag Poe closer, tugging his hair, and Poe just...swallows, and moans, and gives him all he's got.

It's not *stylish*, far from complicated, let alone remotely his best, and, sure, Poe's been looking forward to showing off a little for Finn, but right now, it seems to be exactly what Finn needs, and wants, and it's what he's getting. Poe wraps his tongue the other way round, pulsing his cheeks, then laps under the ridge until Finn's bouncing above him. He's smiling, and then grimacing. Patches of sweat streak like gold across his cheeks and forehead and chest.

His dick's quivering, jumping quick and twitchy, so Poe pulls off, replacing his mouth with his hand. "You're going to come --"

Finn nods and gulps and pushes his fingers through Poe's hair. "Please."

"Yeah, you don't need my permission," Poe says, grinning. "Up to you where, okay? Your call."

"I --"

He licks around the ridge, then down a vein, just little delicate touches that make Finn shake and groan, before he looks back up. "On my face? Down my throat? Whatever you want, buddy, go for it."

"What," Finn says, and licks his lips, and holds Poe's face between his palms just this side of crushing-hard. "Please, Poe, I --"

Poe wraps his arms around Finn's thighs and sucks on the head, two, three, four more times, plus a flicker of tongue and nudge of lip-covered teeth. Finn yanks Poe's head back, thumbs digging into the corners of his mouth, dragging Poe's mouth open, so his dick springs free, glistening with spit.

It bobs, then bounces-jumps-quivers, and he comes all over Poe's face, grunting with each spurt. The *noise* of him, deep and guttural relief, wraps around Poe's dick and tugs him almost all the way to the teetering edge of coming himself.

Warmth and stickiness adhering to his skin, Poe sits still, rapturous, *watching*. Finn pants and gasps and Poe thinks, _we did it, this is something we did_ , better than any recon run or bombing formation, perfect and simple and *together*. 

When he licks the stuff coating his upper lip, Finn groans again and hauls him up by the ears to kiss him.


End file.
